A/N: Does it even need to be mentioned that the Mythbusters TV show is property of the Discovery Channel and I don't own it?
John Smythe leans down to brush his son's hair off his forehead. He looks so young, so vulnerable. . His body is half curled onto his side, and he's looking at an episode of the Mythbusters.
"Dad?" Bastian stirs, lethargically, lifting his head from the pillow and focusing his green eyes on his father.
"Shh," John quiets his son. "I'm going to go to the bathroom and get a cup of coffee. I'll be back in a minute. Don't let them move you upstairs without me."
Bas nods, his slightly unfocused eyes already sliding back toward the explosion Adam Savage is preparing on screen. John hurries out before his son can change his mind. He needs a few minutes to collect himself.
There is a small vending machine for coffee outside the Emergency Department. It promises to dispense all manner of flavored coffee, chocolate, and even broth for a few quarters. A man, about his own age, is leaning against the coffee machine, twisting the wedding ring on his left hand nervously. He looks as tired and frustrated as John feels.
"You alright?" The man asks, quietly. His voice is hoarse.
John shrugs, and wipes his face with his hand. He didn't realize he was crying again, until just now.
"Yes. No. I don't know," He pauses. He is not normally a man who pours out his problems to strangers. But, maybe he recoganizes some kindred parental angst in the other man, because before he can stop himself, the words slip out. "My sixteen year old almost killed himself, today."
He can't believe he just said that.
The man laughs, cold and mirthless. "My seventeen year old tried to hang himself."
"Oh, God." John is thankful Sebastian has never tried something like that. "I'm… I'm so sorry."
The man sighs. "I don't know what to do… David … Dave… he's a good kid. He's just … having a rough time, you know?" John nods. It sounds like Sebastian. Good at heart, but in trouble. "I don't really care … I just want my son to be okay." The man finishes.
John Smythe sighs, the weight of the world in the sound. He tries to put all the things he's feeling into the sound: the sadness that any other parent has to experience the pain and fear of loosing a child; appreciation that he's not alone; disappointment over his son's destructiveness; relief that he didn't have to find his son lying there…
"I'm John," he says, offering his hand and his card. "John Smyth."
"Adam Karofsky," the other man says.
"Bas, my son, I have to go back," John says. "But, if… if you need anything, call me."
Adam nods. "I will."